


Six Feet Beneath the Moon

by Dalzo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Eve, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mistletoe, Teenage Drama, To the Max, and boggarts, author abuses magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 22:12:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17374190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dalzo/pseuds/Dalzo
Summary: "Since when are Starks' afraid of wolves?"When Professor Dondarrion brings out a boggart for his Sixth Year DADA class, Arya Stark is confronted with her biggest fear. Ironically, finding out that she's deeply afraid of isolation does the very opposite; leading her to accompany the Head Boy atop the Astronomy tower, counting stars and studying constellations on Christmas Eve."Since when do Hufflepuffs' have no loyalty and abandon their friends?"As it turns out, they're not so different despite house, class and academic success. But of course, this isn't a surprise; they were, after all, once close friends. And fear has a funny way of making people brave.





	Six Feet Beneath the Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fangirlFiona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlFiona/gifts).



> For fangirlfiona, who has continuously shown her support for me, despite me being slow and never updating. I know this isn't STTH, but I hope it's still satisfying -- hope this reaches your email xx
> 
> ps. I totally abused magic and made the mistletoe enchanted, I can't be tamed

 

 

It was the irony of it all that propelled it around the halls; a whisper, a giggle and _hundreds_ of eyes following her footsteps as she walked to class. Her own gaze was usually fixated on the ground, counting the steady rhythm to her stride, one hand gripping the strap to her satchel tightly and the other fisted in her robe.

 

_"The she-wolf afraid of her own kind?"_

 

That's what they were thinking—questioning, really. Because it really was laughably ironic.

The Stark family crest, a framed wolf with their infamous motto etched in below, forever outliving countless of generations; her father, her brothers, her sister, _even herself—_ every Patronus charm casting a bounding wolf; a blue, howling wisp. And her boggart… well apparently that was a wolf too, much to the surprise of everyone.

 

_"Her biggest fear is a wolf?"_

 

It _was_ funny.

_when the snows fall and the white winds blow,_

And terribly ironic.

_the lone wolf dies,_

Maybe she would've laughed too, had that been the truth.

_but the pack survives._

 

"You should be in bed." Arya flinched at the sudden intrusion, head whipping around at the familiar low, soft-spoken voice. "It's past curfew."

 

Upon meeting his startling blue eyes, she straightened stiffly, arms automatically moving to cross over her torso on instinct. "And those apply when there's only a handful of students?"

 

He smiled; the crooked, tilted half-smile—no teeth showing—she liked a _little_ too much, if her memory served correctly. "I suppose not. Still," He gestured absently with a wave of hand, the other reaching around to rub at the back of his neck. "Head Boy duties."

 

"Ah."

 

"It's a tough job."

 

" _I bet."_

 

"Seriously. You'd think people would learn to stop snogging in the broom closets—" she interrupted with a snort, turning back to the stars as he continued on "—and _really,_ Arry, Edric Dayne?"

 

He commanded a quick turnaround once again, her jaw slightly agape as she found him much closer than before, just a few feet away. "Who told you that?"

 

"Hot Pie."

 

_"I'll kill him—"_

 

"Why? No one _forced_ you to plant one on Ned—"

 

_"Don't even."_

 

"Unless _he_ did. You're not pinging off a love potion, are you?"

 

" _Gendry."_

 

"I mean, the bloke was _mental_ about you, so I wouldn't be surprised—looks like we've lost you forever."

 

"Shut it!"

 

He laughed then, hands held up in surrender before dipping into a bow. "As _m'lady_ commands."

 

Pursing her twitching lips, Arya returned her gaze to the horizon; glazing over the _Great Lake_ and the moon's reflecting shimmer casted over the surface. "Stupid," She muttered softly, resting her arms and chin on the railing, feet dangling over the edge.

Gendry Waters had always been so _ridiculously_ stupid. And terribly hard to resist—thought, she determinedly ignored him, even as he shuffled down beside her, leaning back on his hands.

 

Arya chewed on her lip, scanning the view before her; the blue and purple hue to the sky, the forest a dark blur of shapes, stars blinking particularly bright that evening.

 

When she was little, she believed there'd come a time where she could count them all. Now, acknowledging the impossible task was just another hard truth to follow.

A heavy sigh released from her chest, upper-body slumping over the bar.

 

"You weren't at the feast tonight."

 

Arya shrugged, swallowing thickly. She could _tell_ he was looking at her; eyes intently searching for a reaction; an emotion to the deeply rooted question hiding beneath the surface.

 

"I wanted to be alone." _Not really,_ she wanted to add after the stark silence that followed, _not at all._

 

Gendry hummed, cocking his head slightly. "Seems you've wanted that a lot lately."

 

"And?"

 

"And that's just… it's not you, Arry. You were always—there was _always_ someone you were flitting off to; running off to talk to."

 

"Right." She muttered. "And I suppose you'd _know_ this considering we haven't talked in two years."

 

_"Arya—"_

 

"People change, Gendry. I barely recognise you now."

 

The wind kicked up, frosty air whipping at flushed cheeks and chapped lips. Arya kicked her legs lightly, waiting for his reaction—suppressing the _need_ to ask why he didn’t just gone back down the stairs after seeing her; why he didn't just _leave_ her alone, since it's what he did best.

 

"Only because you're not dragging me into trouble anymore. Since, you know, _Head Boy—"_

 

"You're very humble about it, I see." Arya deadpanned, gloomily reflecting on his _incessant_ need of a subject change—quick to switch up the rocky conversation into something light-hearted before she could rip into him over months of repressed feelings.

 

_"Of course."_

 

"The power _definitely_ hasn't gone to your thick head."

 

"Not at all."

 

 _"Stupid."_ She repeated, fists clenching around the cold metal railing, bitterness getting the better of her tone.

 

"You know, I've kind of missed you reminding me of my intelligence—"

 

"Merlin, would you just…" She trailed off, biting down hard on her bottom lip with a stiff shake of her head. Shivering under the cool wafting draft, she hunched in her shoulders and burrowed in on herself. "Just stop it, alright."

 

A minute passed. She could hear a distant bird, perched in some tree among the _Forbidden Forest,_ no doubt.

Another minute went by. Her eyes caught sight of an owl; a black silhouette, soaring through the sky, stars flickering as it passed the _Astronomy tower_ in search of the Owlery.

 

"I'm sorry." He finally spoke. "I didn't… I just thought you wouldn't want to be alone—"

 

"Yeah. I just said that for no reason." She rolled her eyes accompanied with her scathing tongue.

 

"My god, you're so— _fuck."_ She raised her neck, crooking it to her right where he sat. She always found that interesting—his usage of 'god', not merlin. Not Godric, not Helena, not any wizard just some Muggle god that detested witchcraft; of the very same faith that demanded they be burned at the stake (not that they could catch any _real_ Witch or Wizard).

He used to point that out so much—their differences, their contrast. In height, in _age,_ in strength. But most of all, in class. Only that wasn't a joke, like the others.

"Terribly sorry for checking up on you, _your highness_ _—_ _"_

 

" _Are you serious?_ You're actually annoyed, right now? _"_ She snapped, voice creeping up into the high and shrill range she hated, a sign of her ever-growing annoyance. Blue eyes narrowed in on stormy grey, strong jaw set as he clenched down hard on his teeth. "You can't be serious."

 

"People tend to get annoyed when they're shoved away, Arya."

 

"Shoved away?! _You_ want to talk about shoved away?"

 

"I _just_ wanted to make sure you’re okay—"

 

"Oh really?" She scoffed.

 

"Yes, _really."_

 

"Wonderful." Arya laughed, mirth far away from her mood. "I guess that makes up for the two years of silence, then. But I get it, Gendry, I do—your new _friends_ went home for Christmas so it's _back_ to me in the meantime."

 

"Come off it, Arya—"

 

"You _left me._ When I needed you most, after… you were my best friend until you suddenly weren't, no explanation given. And now you want to check up on me—see if I'm okay?"

 

"What, and you're just innocent in this?" His voice echoed in the tower, booming over the calm night. " _You_ were gone for weeks. And when you returned, _when_ I tried you talk to you, _you_ shut me out Arya. Just like now, _you_ shut me out—"

 

"Because _you_ had moved on to better people—"

 

"What are you even on about?" His eyebrows dropped into a confused furrow, lips drawn into a pouty frown. "I tried to talk to you—"

 

"Once. You tried to talk to me once and then never again." She snapped back. "Then it was back to Jeyne Poole, back to _Lem_ , back to Anguy like I was nothing to you."

 

"You were _mad_ at me for no reason—"

 

"You _never_ came to me when I got back—"

 

"You walked in with your family, I just… I thought you'd want space—"

 

"Or fancied _Jeyne_ a little too much to leave her side—"

 

"Arya." His voice cracked like a whip. _"Enough."_

 

"What?" She skulked, after her initial shock of his brute anger had passed. "Still miss her?"

 

"You are… so infuriating." Gendry bit out, turning his gaze to the horizon before them. "You just push and push at buttons until you push the person away."

 

"Well, some people take a hint and _leave_ when someone wants to be alone."

 

"You want me to leave?"

 

_No._

 

"Yes." She implored, swallowing thickly.

 

"Fine. As M'lady commands."

 

As the words left his lips, she rested her chin against the railing once more; wilfully staring ahead as he moved beside her, the tell-tale sound of shoes scuffing against stone as he made to do _exactly_ what she said—

 

_"Shit."_

 

The hiss was still close to her ear. Confused, Arya's eyes returned to him, taking in his craned neck—those striking blue eyes peering up at the ceiling.

 

She followed his line of sight.

 

 _"_ Oh." She mouthed, in surprise.

 

_Mistletoe._

 

Their eyes met once more. Arya panicked.

 

"I'm not kissing you—"

 

"I never… I'm not suggesting you—"

 

"I _can't_ kiss you."

 

"Alright, _I get_ it. No kissing." Gendry said quickly. " _Gotta save all the snogging for Ned."_ He mumbled softly.

 

 _"No,_ I just…" She huffed. "I don't want to kiss you."

 

" _Ouch."_

 

"There's just no need."

 

"You can stop, now, I _already_ agreed."

 

"Kissing you would just be… just be…" _Something I thought about all those years ago._ "Weird."

 

"Yep." Gendry said sharply. "Got it." He exhaled loudly. "But, we are um… stuck here, y'know. It's enchanted—"

 

"We'll wait it out."

 

"Has that been done before? Can we do that?"

 

"Dunno. Guess we better just… see."

 

"Yeah…"

 

Arya breathed in, squirming in the silence. Her eyes glanced up at the dry snow that fell from the plant that continued to curl above them, unusually warm as it melted against her cheeks. Biting into her lip, eyes slowly scanning back to the great lake and the stars, she suddenly wandered back to that childlike awe in counting stars.

_Perhaps she'd get an accurate number._

 

So, erm…" Gendry began slowly. "Since when are Starks' afraid of wolves?"

 

Ah. And there it was.

 

"Since when do Hufflepuffs' have no loyalty and abandon their friends?" She retorted calmly. Though her body felt anything but—tense and taut as the mind circulated in on that memory; _that_ terrifying discovery, a brief moment which seized her limbs and chilled her nerves, freezing her on the spot.

 

Gendry only laughed, though; her casual, absent-minded dig missing it's mark. Loud and abrupt, he threw his head back with a short burst straight from the chest, warm and collecting like thunder it was oddly soothing. "God, you really just are _relentless."_

 

"Well…" She gestured wildly, to the side as no words came to mind. Blinking, Arya drew her knees up to her chest, rocking back and forth as she began to count the stars—a welcome distraction from the very thing she wanted to forget.

 

"Was it _really_ a wolf?" She shot him a scathing look, fierce eyes locking in on his. "What? It's just—it's kind of funny."

 

"Oh yes, hilarious—"

 

He chuckled. "So it _was_ a wolf, then?"

 

"I… _yes._ Yes, my boggart was a wolf. Happy?"

 

He shook his head, smiling. "I don't know. It doesn't make any sense."

 

"That's why it's funny. Ha ha." She added tonelessly.

 

"Yep." He agreed. "But… also, just doesn't fit. Most people just accept the _thing,_ the object or…or person _or whatever_ in front of them as their fear but it has a deeper meaning. You're not actually afraid of wolves—I know that, Arya."

 

"Mmmh." She hummed, squeezing her eyes shut. "I know."

 

"So…" He leaned in closer, voice lower and softer. "What are you _really_ afraid of?"

 

"Why do you care?" She tried to inch away, only the enchanted mistletoe dangling above made that _physically_ impossible.

 

"Because. It must be _pretty_ terrifying to scare off Arya Stark—"

 

"Shut up."

 

"Like that time we _met_ and you got in a tiff with Lommy and Hot Pie—"

 

"I _could have_ taken 'em on, but you put you just had to put your fat bull head in it."

 

"I _saved_ you—so small and helpless against those two, you didn't stand a chance."

 

Arya glowered at him, a scowl pulling at her mouth. "I know you're joking but _even_ suggesting Lommy and Hot Pie could take me down is insulting."

 

Gendry rose his thick brows, crooked grin spreading. "Oh, I wasn't joking."

 

She considered this for a second, eyeing him up and down, just before pulling her shoulder back to clock him in the shoulder—hitting it _just_ right to give him a dead arm.

She grinned victoriously as he instantly clutched at it, laughing _and_ moaning through the pain.

 

"God, _Quidditch_ has made you downright evil—"

 

"Evil?"

 

"Yep. I saw your game, Stark, you play dirty." He cocked his head, screwing up his lips. His pouty, pink lips. "Then again, that's always been Slytherin's specialty— _oi, okay, I take it back—ow, jesus, fuck, stop."_

 

Whack after whack, he moaned and cursed and Arya could only giggle—he was _such_ a carry on. If she was _really_ pulling her punches, he wouldn't be smiling.

 

"Slytherin _aren't_ dirty." She finally said, face resting into the smile that had slowly morphed into her expression. "We're _smart._ That's why we win."

 

"You mean you _don't_ cheat?"

 

"You're jealousy is showing—"

 

"Hey," He held his hands up. "I'm not complaining. By all means, continue to beat Gryffindor. Just watch out when it comes to Hufflepuff."

 

"Okay. _Sure."_

 

"Don't sound so smug."

 

_"I am smug."_

 

"It shows."

 

"Good."

 

With each word passed through their back and forth, the pair leaned closer; so close she could feel his hot breath fanning over her lips, see the shine to his stunning blue eyes, the freckles that dotted across his nose, that _one_ piece of hair she'd like to move to the side and tuck behind the ears that slightly stuck out.

Her eyes ducked down to his lips; slowly, watching them quirk; a slither of tongue darting out to wet his inviting bottom lip.

 

She looked up, to his eyes, stunned to see them staring at her own lips, and then further up to the very object that bound them.

 

Suddenly, Arya turned from him, releasing a breath she hadn't known to be holding.

She closed her eyes as the wind picked up; cool enough to make her teeth chatter, washing over dry skin as goosebumps prickled at her arms.

 

The silence between them was thick and heady, flowing like the current of the lake, surrounding them in a mix of contradicting emotions.

Perhaps she _should_ just kiss him—she was _angry_ at him, she _missed_ him, she wanted to kiss him _long_ before this moment. But then the night would be over; he'd leave and she'd stay. And right now, this felt too much like home to let go of.

 

"What was your boggart?" She asked suddenly.

 

"Ah." He laughed. "It's, um, it's kind of mental."

 

"Sounds interesting."

 

"It's really not." He said quickly. "It's just a… bird's nest. One egg in the middle. That's it."

 

Arya blinked. _"I'm sorry?"_

 

"Yeah. _Yeah,_ I know, fucking _mental._ Took me a while to figure out what it really meant—"

 

"What _does_ it mean?"

 

"That's _hardly_ fair." Gendry smirked. "You haven't even told me yours yet."

 

"I will!" Arya announced quickly. "After you—"

 

"Deceit and lies. A Slytherin's motto—"

 

"Come on, stupid." She shoved at his shoulder again. "When have I ever lied to you?"

 

He hummed. "Well, _it's_ been a while. And people change, you said it yourse—"

 

"Gendry."

 

"Alright, _alright,_ it's just… I've never really told anyone this before." He huffed. "It's only… well, it makes sense. I'm an Orphan, a Muggleborn and—and I've always been afraid of getting left behind. Because I _have_ no one in the Muggle world, except my foster parents and even then, they're… they don't care, really." He shrugged. "I have _no_ idea who my father is, my mother is dead and sometimes I can't help but think _this_ is all a dream." He raised his neck to gaze out at the view. "Hogwarts, magic; it doesn't seem real. And I'm just… waiting for it all to disappear on me. Waiting to get… left behind."

 

"Oh." She sounded out softly.

 

"Oh." He repeated, a small sheepish smile sent her way. "It's probably stupid, right?"

 

"No, _no._ It's not stupid at all."

 

"Ah."

 

"Yeah." Arya muttered. "Yeah, um… it's actually—I just… I get it."

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Yes. _Yeah,_ my dad, he had this saying about _wolf-packs_ and a lone wolf. Wolf-packs survive because they're together—there's people to help out, to _reach_ out to but… the lone-wolf—"

 

"Dies. I remember." He nodded. "You said it a lot, trying to con me into something bad."

 

She smiled at this; slightly, before wincing. He watched her carefully as she schooled her features.

 

"So, uh… _this boggart._ You're the lone wolf, no?"

 

Arya paused, chewing on the lip that was sure to bruise, before nodding slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm the wolf with no pack. Alone. Isolated."

 

"Ah."

 

She frowned, cursing as emotions stirred deep in her chest; rising as a lump, catching in the back of her throat while tears pricked at her eyes, threatening to spill over.

 

"You were my pack. You _were_ a part of my pack, Gendry. What happened?"

 

"I don't…" He cut himself off. "I don't know, I just—you were gone, you were hurting—"

 

"I _needed_ you!"

 

"I was… I _was_ there for you, Arya, I tried to be I just… when you got angry, when you pushed me away I just thought you needed space. I thought you'd come find me when you were ready—"

 

"No. _No,_ I needed you right then and there but it—it felt like you didn't care, _it_ felt like you left me for them—"

 

"I just wanted you to… _fuck,_ Arry, I didn't know how to make it better. I didn't know how to help."

 

"You weren't supposed to, you idiot!" She shouted, wiping away the frustrated tears. "You _can't_ fix my father dying, you can't help you can only be there. And you _weren't_ there, you weren't there at all—no, you were just… just getting off with Jeyne and laughing with Anguy and Lem like nothing was wrong."

 

"I never _meant_ that!" He yelled back. "I was just doing what I thought was right!"

 

"Which was _what?"_

 

"Staying far away from you, Arya—because you were grieving. Because you're from a pureblood family, _because_ you're rich, because you're beautiful and because you were _too fucking young_ for me to be thinking that."

 

She blinked blankly. Opening her mouth before closing it. "I can't…" she trailed off. "Are you _serious_ right now? You… you _ignored_ me because I was too young?"

 

"Too young for my feelings, yeah, but just… a combination of— _Mmph."_

 

Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, Arya had pulled him forward and pressed her mouth against his own. A short, three seconds of wide eyed, non-responsive kissing before she shoved him away.

 

She scraped to her feet, stumbling over her hurried steps as she began to ran; far away from Gendry Waters and his _stupid, stupid_ reasoning.

 

"Arya." He called out after her, hot on her heels, thumping loudly down the steps. He was _always_ so loud—everything about him was loud and big and booming. "Arya, _stop."_

 

She was careless in her steps, flying down the steps with adrenaline pumping in her ears. So many flights of stairs, the erratic breaths catching up on her all the while he shouted and clambered down loudly behind her.

 

"Arya _, please_."

 

A large warm hand wrapped around her wrist, halting her movements and pulling him back to his broad chest. She wriggled in his embrace—those hands moving from her wrist to wrap around her middle, squeezing tight as his forehead dropped to her shoulder.

 

"I'm sorry _,_ I'm sorry… I never meant to hurt you." She stiffened. "Please, don't leave. Please don't go."

 

Like a mantra, he whispered it over and over. Over and over, cycling in her head; through her ears, skin flushed from his radiating warmth.

 

"Please." Like a prayer. "I'm sorry."

 

Finally, she turned in his hold; forcing him to raise his head and look her in the eye.

 

She raised a hand, cupping his jaw; the stubble that grew there scratching at the pads of her fingers.

 

"You are… _so stupid."_ Her voice shook, fingers curling against his flesh while his hands pushed her further into his embrace.

 

"I know." Gendry rested his forehead against hers. "You tell me all the time."

 

She smiled then. "Not of late." she replied. "We have a lot to catch up on."

 

"Yeah." He agreed as she melted into him; head burrowing into his shoulder as he cradled her close. They stood there, holding each other and rocking lightly as Christmas Eve bled into Christmas Day.

 

"I can't believe our first kiss was just so you could get away from me." Gendry spoke suddenly, earning a wet snort into the fabric of his shirt. She clutched at the fabric, raising her head to take in those striking eyes once more.

 

"Well. I suppose we should catch up on that too." Spoken softly as she rose to her toes, Arya pressed her lips to his own—soft and gentle, light and experimental, smiling against his lips as a thought came to mind:

 

She was _back_ with her own very pack. And this time, she didn't intend on letting go.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading xx  
> Chuck me a follow on tumblr [@tree-maiden](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/tree-maiden)


End file.
